


School Me

by Clonesy



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 01:56:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4041253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clonesy/pseuds/Clonesy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of related oneshots in which our favourite Acapella nerds are all teachers at Barden High, a prestigious high school with an...interesting collection of staff. [Mostly Bechloe, but expect some one sided Jeca, Chaubrey, etc]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. That one with the stage slap

“Miss Beale, Miss Amy isn't in her classroom.” 

This is what bright eyed student Benji Applebaum announces as he strolls back in to drama classroom DR2, quick on his heels to return to his friends. He had been sent moments ago to fetch a teacher for a much needed class demonstration but seemingly returns empty handed. Miss Beale (or Chloe, as her co-workers may call her) looks at him and bares a smile. She gives a hearty thanks for going to check, but her eyes flutter shut in annoyance the second he turns away, and she curses under her breath. Of all the unprofessional practises Amy uses in her teaching (including the students calling her by her first name), her ability to be conscientious about her co-workers is perhaps the worst. Chloe has no one to fall back on; no one to help in class with demonstrations of drama techniques...which is pretty important when you teach drama. 

Sighing, Chloe calls the attention of her class. She guesses today will be unproductive...again. 

“Okay, class, take out your scripts,” She says. After a few moments to allow the students to fumble around with their bags and backpacks, she adds, “ Make sure all your lines are highlighted, or at least have the pages tabbed.” And they do as she says: diligently marking their pages, quietly talking amongst themselves about which of their characters interact; even asking the meaning of the words they are learning. Chloe finds it humbling enough that the weight of Amy being unreliable is almost forgotten – almost being the case as Chloe soon spots her through a window, walking slackly beside the Janitor, an unkempt looking man named Bumper.

But by this point Amy doesn't even warrant being called over, so Chloe ignores what she sees. There is enough stress in this class as it is.

Emily, another of Chloe's students, gently taps Chloe on the shoulder and holds out her script.  
“Miss Beale, this script says I have to slap Benji's character.” She states, glancing ever so nervously towards the boy. “- And I don't want to do that.”  
Chloe takes the tattered script (Why the school can't get new scripts after using the same for 10 years in beyond her) and reads over the lines. Sure enough, the stage direction is there, untidily underlined in red marker. Chloe stares at the words in annoyance – pure annoyance, because this was the very thing she needed to demonstrate today: Stage fighting. 

Chloe clears her throat and hands the script back to Emily.  
She assures the girl it's all pretend and that she can be taught to fake hit Benji; of course, this makes Emily incredibly intrigued and she calls Benji over and before Chloe has a chance to explain she cannot teach such a thing today, there's a crowd of 15 or so students around her, eager to learn how to fake “bitch slap” someone. 

Chloe waves her hands to quiet the chorus of “Miss Beale!” suddenly coming from all directions.  
“I could show you if it wasn't for Miss Amy” she reasons, but the students are having none of it.  
“Get someone else to help!” Benji suggests, earning a round of agreements and echoes from other students until the whole class is erupting again, and Emily looks at her teacher with only the greatest sympathy for causing the whole thing. 

Then, Chloe breaks.  
“Okay okay!” She shouts over the rowdy teenagers. “ I will go find another teacher to demonstrate with.” She then turns sharply to Emily,”You're in charge until I get back. Make sure everyone is reading their scripts.”  
Emily nods but then looks in horror , eyes wide and terrified at the sudden responsibility. However, before she even has a chance to take it back and request another takes the role, Chloe has left the class and she's left to deal with her classmates, who eye her as a teacher's pet in much the same way a lion would eye a lamb.  
Except Benji, who smiles in a way that's almost comforting. 

XxX

Chloe arrives in Miss Mitchell's class no more than 2 minutes later, bursting in ceremoniously and without care, knowing that Beca doesn't have a class for another hour. Beca jolts up in her chair.  
“Hey!” She hisses, “What the hell?”  
Chloe tuts, “Mind your language, Beca.”  
Beca huffs but can't help breaking out a smile at the sound of Chloe's voice. Beca pushes away from her desk, wheeling her chair in Chloe's direction, turning around at just the moment to step out and meet Chloe face to face. In response, Chloe simply raises an eyebrow.  
“How old are you, Miss Mitchell?” She asks jokingly.  
“Mentally? About 5.” Beca replies, hesitation lacking. A beat later and she asks, “What can I do for you, Miss Beale?” 

Chloe shifts her weight on to one leg, comfortable in Beca's presence.  
“I need someone to help me with a class demonstration...someone who can actually act, like you.” She says.  
Beca raises her eyebrows, perplexed.  
“You want me to act...with you...in front of your class?”  
Chloe grabs Beca's hands, a dazzling grin on her face and she begs, “Oh please, Beca. My students need this and you know how Amy is sometimes. You're the only other teacher in this place I can ask.”  
“The only teacher you can ask is a teacher who teaches a different subject?”

Beca stares at Chloe, who is all eyes glistening and expression pleading, and she can feel her nerve slipping. She's Beca 'Effin Mitchell, the cool music teacher but under the gaze of soft hearted drama teacher Chloe Beale, saying no feels like a sin she could be sent to hell for. Chloe is just too good, too nice, too light hearted to put down. So she smiles, fake in the way of her 'chill' composure and reluctantly agrees to help. 

Chloe squeals. “Miss Mitchell, you are a life saver!”  
“Don't thank me yet, I haven't done anything.” Beca smirks, feeling somewhat pleased with herself that she's made her co-worker so ecstatic. Chloe's passion is adorable, to say the least.  
“Well no, you haven't yet, but you will have when we're finished.” Chloe chirps. 

Pulling her to a brisk walk, Chloe leads Beca from the classroom and babbles mindlessly about what her students are performing. A few phrases – dramatic love story, plot twists; choreographed fights – make it to Beca's ears but the rest is a jumble of theatrical lingo she's long since forgotten from her acapella and musical theatre days (The latter longer ago than the former), but she nods politely anyway.

This is going to be interesting, she thinks. 

XxX 

5 minutes and one short hand explanation later, Beca finds herself in front of a chorus of students, clearly amused by what is unfolding before them. Tattered script in hand, Beca acts out the scene she is given with Chloe (the same scene Emily earlier showed worry about).  
Perhaps her acting is poor because each script stated catch of her breath and flutter of her eyes given in reaction to her co-worker is met with snickers and teasing glances from the class and they seem to think, for some ungodly reason, that their whispering goes unnoticed. 

But Beca notices and she's not about to let a bunch of drama students think her a fool for helping out a fellow teacher. Despite her hesitance – because God knows there's a lot of it –, she pushes through the whole spectacle, looking for any signs that she's doing the right thing. Truly, she feels a pair of headphones and some Dj decks wouldn't go a miss but Chloe is reassuring her, giving gentle nods and smiles as they act in front of the class, and maybe, just maybe, Beca finds this suddenly not as embarrassing as it probably should be. 

That is, until, the fight scene comes along.  
“Miss Beale.” Emily pipes up, saving Beca from further embarrassment, as she realises that she in fact, does not know how to stage slap. Beca breathes out in relief. Perhaps these students aren't so bad after all.  
“You need to demonstrate the stage slap before you perform it, surely?” and Emily is glancing at Beca whilst she says this, as if she can tell the other teacher's lack of knowledge. Although, Beca's scowl at the script was probably a dead giveaway to all of them, in hindsight. 

“I thought it'd be better to run the whole scene then break it down-” Chloe begins to use an authoritative tone, but is quickly trumped by Beca, who states, “I think, what Emily is trying to say, Miss Beale, is that she'd love to know how it works so she can fully appreciate the work that goes in to it.”  
Emily nods, “Oh yes, definitely. ”  
Beca bites back a smirk. Although, as amusing as this is, she finds her pride a little shattered at needing to be saved by a student; her smirk disappears at the thought. 

Chloe looks at Beca, then to Emily, then scans the class.  
“Do the rest of you think that's a good idea?” She asks and the general rumble of noise that is thrown back at her confirms that yes, they do.  
“Okay class, then I guess Miss Mitchell and I will just skip the rest of the scene and go straight in to the demonstration.”  
One student says aloud, “Why didn't you just do that in the first place, Miss?”  
Chloe gives the teen a knowing smile, “Because I know you all wanted to see Miss Mitchell act.”  
There's a round of laughter and Beca rolls her eyes.  
“How professional of you, Miss Beale.”  
“Well you know how we are, in the drama department.”  
The whole class laughs and Beca feels her face heat up. Despite being the second oldest in the room and a figure of authority, she feels scrutinised by these students. They're so unlike her music students, who are less...well, dramatic, and honestly? It's a little terrifying. 

“Okay okay, Miss Beale, can we please get to actually teaching? I think you've done enough damage to my reputation for one day.” Beca quips, beaming her co-worker a tight, sarcastic smile.  
“Certainly, Miss Mitchell.” Chloe replies as she walks over, taking the script from Beca's hand and depositing it in Emily's before returning and guiding Beca through a series of motions that in theory, should be easy to remember. Of course, she neglects to remember she's acting with Beca Mitchell, Barden High's signature Music Teacher who once forgot to bring an Aux cable to a school dance. 

“Okay, now see, when my arm swings, like this -” She moves her arm slowly past Beca's face, indicating that there's enough distance for Beca to not actually get hit “- Miss Mitchell needs to react as if I just slapped her and that should be it.”.  
She lowers her arms, “Any questions?”  
The class replies with silence. 

Beca claps her hands together. “Okay good.” She says, “Miss Beale, let's get this done with.”  
Chloe nods. 

Beca prepares herself for a second, still trying to convince herself she's not crazy for actually agreeing to do this. The judgement of an entire class of students rest on her shoulders and for what? To make herself appear helpful in the eyes of another teacher – A teacher she is most definitely not becoming overly friendly with, no, not at all.

They return to the moment just before they last stopped. The last few lines of dialogue that they throw back and forth happen all too quick for Beca to grasp and it's at this moment she realises why an acting career was never hers to have. Chloe raises her voice whilst hers only shrinks. The energy of Chloe's performance is just overwhelming and she can see that spark of passion in her eyes for acting; for teaching others to act and Beca just forgets about the slap because she's struggling to recall the line of speech she's supposed to deliver, and it's just all too much. Chloe advances towards her, arm poising to hit.  
Beca freezes. 

With far too much faith, Chloe swings her arm. Beca only has a moment to glance at the judgement she's currently receiving from the group of teens watching before she snaps her eyes shut, clenches her jaw and -

SLAP!

The room goes silent. 

After a moment, Emily speaks up.

“Miss Beale, I don't think that's how you're supposed to do it.”


	2. That one where Beca is unprofessional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Extended title: That one where Beca is the least professional teacher ever and it's a miracle she's not been fired yet  
> ~  
> Song lyrics are from Wie Schon Du Bist by Sarah Connor

~ Du bist schön willst schöner sein  
Du bist dünn willst dünner sein~

Music – A pop ballad with a powerful back beat – fills the corridor through which Beca is walking with an infectious rhythm. She taps the the drums on her legs; hums a harmony to the rhythm. She catches a few words, muffled through the walls and she's pretty sure it sounds like German. This is not the usual ruckus heard in the vastness that is Barden High. This is something quite different...quite catchy, almost.

Beca glances at her watch. With an hour and a half until her next class, she's not exactly stretched for time, nor does she have anywhere to be. She'd probably still be stuck talking to Mr. Swanson, the school's 'dreamy' (which Beca finds debatable, to say the least) English teacher if it weren't for the impeccable timing of Stacie – er, Miss Conrad, that is – and her constant coincidental need for help with the printer.

And without Mr Swanson to talk her to death, Beca finds herself stalking the hallways, looking for the music's source, or anything else that will consume the boring few hours she has until she can begin teaching again (which is hardly more entertaining, anyway). It's at times like these she wishes her teaching schedule matched with Miss Beale's a little better...

Beca turns a corner and some student, hastily rolling a cigarette between his fingers, is leant against a locker, smirk playing on his lips like he's the first kid to ever cut class to smoke. Beca clears her throat. It cuts through the music's baseline that hums through the air and the boy snaps up his gaze, obscenities hot on his tongue.  
"Oh shit, I mean- fuck. Hi. uh. Miss Mitchell." He stutters.  
For the hulking jock kind of student Beca pegged him for, his words are surprisingly meek as he realises he's been caught, and Beca simply takes the cigarette from his hand with a tight smile. She says (in the most subtly threatening voice a woman of 5 ft 1 can say to a boy of easily 6ft) "Don't let me catch you again, or I'll take you to the principal."

He's taken aback by Beca's lack of yelling, or reprimanding and he scowls at her, distrustful.  
He asks in disbelief, "You mean I'm not getting a detention?"  
His confusion is understandable – No punishment for three offences (Out of class, smoking; swearing) – But honestly? Beca would rather be following the music right now. There's no time for dumb ass students who can't follow the rules: Professionalism be damned.  
"You will be in detention if you don't go back to class right now." Beca replies, hoping the boy will take the olive branch she's offering and just drop it.

"Can I at least have my cig back?"  
Beca has to hold back her eye roll because as a teacher, she knows it's not professional (which is highly ironic, considering she's letting a student go without detention because of some music) but god damn, this oblivious student is testing her. The music in the background is still playing away and with each passing second, the itch under Beca's skin to follow it grows and she just won't – no, she can't – let this student slow her. She feels the rhythm twitching in her fingertips, and though it's not her favourite genre that's playing, as a music teacher she feels entitled to find it.

She puts the cigarette in her pocket and hums out a "No." to the boy. He huffs and shifts his weight from one foot to the other.  
"Please?" He all but begs.  
"If you'd like to remain free and out of detention, I recommend you leave right now." Beca growls through gritted teeth and the student's eyes go wide. He takes a hesitant step back.  
"Uh, yeah, okay. Sorry, Miss Mitchell." He stammers, taking another step back, and another until he turns away from Beca and scuttles away, head stooped and feet scuffing the floor.  
"Damn right." Beca grumbles to herself.

She snaps the cigarette in half and drops it in a trash can as she continues to walk. It occurs to her, as she does this, that German music most likely is being played in a German class and she has to stop herself from face palming because seriously, how did she not realise that before? With a certain haste in her step, Beca heads towards the Language classrooms.

Sure enough, as she nears the the class of a certain German teacher (Whose name she struggles to remember), the music's clarity improves. She approaches the closed door of the classroom the noise is coming from, glancing through small window and the lights are off; the class silent and a music video is being projected on to the whiteboard. Relevant to learning German? Beca thinks not.  
Relevant to learning about Music? Definitely.

Only then does Beca catch a look at the teacher and everything clicks. The blonde hair, sharp features and intimidating levelled gaze that sees Beca weak every time. Teachers aren't supposed to be intimidated by other teachers, but Ms Kommissar (First name: Emeline) was an exception to that rule. An exception to most rules of the school, really.  
Beca literally has no time to walk away or find an excuse for being there – seeing as "Yeah hi sorry I heard music and I just had to follow it" would probably be the most embarrassing thing one could say, especially as the respectable and 'cool' teacher Beca thought herself to be – before Ms Kommissar was at the door, opening it and peering out with a quirked eyebrow.

"Ah, Miss Mitchell. How can I help you?" She says in her rich German accent.  
Beca stares up at her and blurts "I...uh. You have really good music taste."  
Emeline looks down on Beca, brushing off her words with a slow, unimpressed blink. "Do you have anything important to tell me or are you just wasting my time?" and Beca swears the glare she gives reduces whatever nerve she had to basically nothing. Beca audibly gulps.  
"No I mean..." Beca hangs off the last syllable for a second before pointing at the whiteboard. "German music, right?"  
"What else would it be?"  
"I can tell your class about it." Which is a total lie, Beca thinks as she speaks, wincing. She just can't stop herself.  
Ms Kommissar rolls her eyes. "I'm from Germany and I teach German; I don't think I need help. Now would you let me get back to teaching?"

By now, the entire classroom is looking in their direction and with a face that admits defeat, Beca takes a step away from the door. The entire conversation took less than a minute, but Emeline has a way of just making Beca turn in to a rambling idiot. Which, in front of a class of students (some of which she recognises from her own classes), is not ideal. Professionalism be damned, indeed.

"Why are you even playing music in class, that loudly, anyway? I mean, not to say I don't think that it's good – because it's very good music, but you know, you teach a language, not music." Beca's snark is hardly a step above childish 'banter' but it earns an amused hum from Emeline, who steps outside the class and closes the door to allow them some privacy.  
Of course, now she's closer and Beca realises this is one colleague she does not want to get in the way of, and yet she's captivated - this towering powerhouse of a German teacher stood before her is the polar opposite of her usual conversation partner, the ever homely Miss Beale, and Beca isn't sure if she likes it or not.

"You look so terrified, Miss Mitchell." Emeline says, interrupting Beca's thoughts. Her voice is the most smug kind of patronising.  
"What? Me? No. Just tired."  
Emeline smirks, "Your boyfriend, the uh...English teacher? He is keeping you busy, yes?"  
"Jess- Mr Swanson, is not my boyfriend." Beca states, feeling almost offended.  
"I see..." Clearly bored of this small talk, Emeline trails off her speech with a scrutinizing glance over Beca before opening the classroom door again, and commenting "Well some of us have classes to teach. Please do not interrupt my teaching again."  
Beca doesn't get a word in edge ways; the door slams in her face and the music starts to play again and she's left, embarrassed and dumbfounded.

"Wow, Beca, what was that?"  
She turns around and there's Chloe, arms crossed, smirking at her; shaking her head in disbelief.  
"She's really in my head." Beca grumbles.  
"Yeah...Ms Kommissar is...quite something." Chloe agrees, nodding her head in the direction she's about to walk and Beca falls in to step with her. There's something a little bitter about the way Chloe speaks, but Beca shrugs it off. She's probably got some student giving her hell again. God knows it happens all the time with those dramatic theatre kids.

"Wait, I thought you were supposed to be teaching right now?" Beca asks after a moment.  
Chloe hums, "Oh, I am."  
Beca scowls, which is reason enough for Chloe to explain, not that any other reaction would've stopped her explaining anyway. She lifts up her right hand, to show a stack of photocopies she's holding.  
"Had to get some scripts copied and of course, Stacie was holding up the queue and then I heard music and I just knew you'd be following it. So I decided I'd find you and we'd walk back to our part of the school together."

Beca smirks. "You are literally the least professional teacher I've ever seen."  
Without a batter of an eyelash, Chloe quips "Says the teacher who interrupted another class because they heard music."

"...Touche."


	3. That one with the storage closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We got here some old fashion M rated material here, folks.  
> Read at your own discretion ;)  
> Also don't let the beginning fool you, this is DEFINITELY bechloe!

11:40AM  
All 9th grade Students of Barden High are away in an emergency assembly.  
They're being interrogated, or perhaps just simply being yelled at as a collective, for a series of extreme vandalism that's taken place over the past few weeks. 7th Grade was first, then 8th, now 9th and it's pretty easy to guess how this is suppose to continue. 

Of course, without any 9th graders to teach, it means a free period for Beca; she's using it to work on her own stuff – producing mixes and original compositions: anything that could give her the faintest glimmer of hope that she could maybe one day leave this dreary 9 to 5 once and for all. However, she dumbly isn't taking in to account that other teachers are currently free of their classes. Or well, she wasn't, but Mr Swanson shows up in her class with a quick (almost unnoticeable) wave through the small window in the door before barging in, calling out “Becaw!” and Beca's pretty sure the realisation that her colleagues are free completely ruins the idea of this free period...Except maybe with the exception of one or two people. Rest assured, Jesse is not one of them.

She closes her eyes and sighs, “Please don't call me that.”  
He loosens his tie and sits opposite her, reaching over her desk to playfully tap her on the arm and Beca is so close to slapping him. So very close.  
“Oh c'mon, lighten up. You're just annoyed that it catches your attention.” He says smugly.  
Beca looks back at her laptop and continues to type. She keeps her voice steady and monotonous, because she feels any slight indication that she's paying attention to this conversation just gives Jesse another 10 reasons to be here, where in reality he's got about -5.  
“Yeah well, it's bound to when you yell it out during a field trip.”  
He shakes his head, chuckling. “That was one time.”  
“And it was one time too many. I still regret offering to help out with that trip. Your class is a nightmare.”  
Jesse leans back in his chair, still grinning in that annoying way he does. Sure he's what most people would call charming, Beca supposes, but God, what a pain in the ass.  
“That Emily girl you teach is in my class. She's pretty good.”  
If this is his way of trying to connect with her, it isn't working. 

Beca slams her laptop shut, smiling tightly, leaning over her desk towards him in a way that tells him to come closer. He takes the bait and moves forward, still smiling.  
“Mr Swanson...” Beca says, faux sweetly, fluttering her eyelashes.  
Jesse suddenly looks hopeful, his eyes wide like an excited, dumb puppy and he says, in full trust, “Yes, Miss Mitchell?”

Beca pauses for a moment. 

“Get out of my classroom.” 

Safe to say, he picks himself up from the chair pretty quickly and coughs a few times, clearly his manhood a little shattered and it'd be wrong to say Beca isn't proud of herself. Less than a minute to make the guy give up? It's got to be her new personal record. 

Jesse mumbles an excuse about needing to work on some marking. On his way out, he passes Chloe, who he gives a curt nod to before hurrying away. Chloe gives Beca a look of amusement and Beca's single eyebrow raise in reply gives her all the information she needs to know. Their ability to wordlessly communicate as of late has been a great source of entertainment.  
Chloe slumps down in the same chair Jesse just occupied, decidedly more lax than he was (which is surprisingly possibly) and gives Beca a grin, which she returns with a small smile, warm and gentle, reserved only for Chloe.  
“So, how's my favourite little music teacher today?” She asks, beaming.  
“Well, Miss Beale, I can tell you your favourite little music teacher is getting progressively pissed off with this school and it's students...and some of it's teachers” Beca responds, the use of formal title in referral to Chloe happening as habit but it's not exactly an issue because Chloe likes the way it sounds on Beca's tongue...Not that she was paying attention to that, or anything. She's fully paying attention to Beca and her irritation. 100%.

Chloe asks her gently, “9 to 5 fever got you again?”  
Beca nods, head falling in her hands.  
“I'm not cut out to be a teacher.” she groans. 

Chloe grapples at Beca's hands and holds them across the desk, forcing Beca to hold her head up and look at her. Her smile is warm and inviting and by far the best thing Beca has gained since joining the cursed placed.  
“You're doing a great job, Beca. You just need to relax, okay?”  
Beca sighs because, obviously, she's right. Chloe always is. She just needs to relax; take a chill pill (or whatever it is teens say right now) and importantly, take a moment to breathe.  
And yeah, maybe with Chloe around, it's a little easier to remind herself to do that. 

Still, in reply Beca just gives a tired smile and looks towards the desk, giving herself a moment to think. 

Chloe is also silent for a short while.  
Until-

“Sex is always good for relaxing. We should do that.” 

And she says it so matter of factly, so calmly, her demeanour not even changing and Beca can do nothing but blink for a few seconds before she coughs out an “I'm sorry, what?”  
“Sex, Beca.”  
“What? Right now?”  
Chloe nods, grinning.  
“It's not like it'd be the first time for two teachers to have a quickie in a storage closet, right?” and then, she winks. 

Beca's sure her face is bright red and her palms are sweating so much that she pulls them from Chloe's grip.  
“I uh, I mean. No...but this usually happens in those weird fan stories that I find kids reading on the library computers” Beca says, chuckling nervously, fiddling her hands with anything to distract herself from what's just been offered because god yes, she wants that, more than anything. She's noticed how her and Chloe share looks and she knows it's not just platonic, not anymore. But seriously? Right now? During School hours? It's insane. It's idiotic and unprofessional and...

-And It's exactly what she needs to shake off this School's keenness for keeping within the lines.

Beca looks back up at Chloe, who's giving her a knowing expression.  
“So, you down?” She asks and after a tense second, Beca nods. 

“Okay good.” and with that, Chloe stands, walks around the desk and takes Beca's hand. It all happens very smoothly, in a determined, quick kind of fashion that Beca can only find attractive for it's sheer swiftness. Chloe leads her away from the desk, towards the music storage cupboard and Beca's heart is in her throat but she's far too excited to feel nervous.  
Chloe pulls her in to the storage closet and shuts the door behind them. There's little space with the instruments around them, but it's enough. 

Her smile turns seductive, features seeming physically darker and Beca's all but undone.  
“You ready to relax, Miss Mitchell?” Chloe asks in a soft, deadly whisper.  
Beca would have responded, had she not been still caught up in her disbelief. She manages a syllable of some phrase that would probably sound sexy, but Chloe grabs her by the collar of her shirt and slams her into the door, effectively silencing her as the wind rushes from her lungs. 

Beca does manage a small whimper and Chloe gives a short giggle – breaking from her 'dark sex goddess' act for a just a second – before crashing their lips together. It happens the way most kisses do: there's grazing of lips and locking of tongues, with Chloe nipping at Beca's bottom lip and though it's passionate and hot and oh, so satisfying, neither of them are in disagreement of being quick with this, because their time is sadly limited. So they kiss and undress (removing only what they need to – shirts staying on); rock their hips and kiss some more, and Beca's hands scrunch in Chloe's hair and Chloe's hands explore under Beca's shirt, teasing her with nail scratches across her sides. She leaves red marks on Beca's hips but Beca can only moan in approval of their mild sting. It's so quick, how it happens – how she's turned on by Chloe's hands on her body and the knowledge that they should definitely not be doing this. 

Chloe trails her hands lower, brushing them over Beca's thighs, dipping one hand between Beca's legs to meet the wetness that resides, but she's just teasing, just enough for Beca to whimper out a beg against Chloe's lips and Chloe doesn't listen because maybe they don't have much time, but there's enough for a little fun. She breaks their kissing and kisses a trail to Beca's neck. She licks and sucks on her pulse point and Beca's melting, biting down on her lip to contain the moan she so desperately needs to release. Chloe smirks against Beca's skin.  
“My my, Miss Mitchell.” She purrs, “You're definitely very tense.” 

 

Beca places her hands over Chloe's and tries to guide her colleagues fingers to where she needs them most, and Chloe's game for a second, allowing Beca to lead her fingers over her slick folds.  
Beca hums in pleasure and breathes out a “please” but Chloe's still not done. Her fingers linger on Beca's labia, barely touching, not nearly enough to give Beca that satisfaction she wants; the satisfaction she needs.  
Chloe's mouth is on Beca's neck again, peppering kisses between hushed words.  
“So...” kiss.  
“Very...” kiss.  
“Tense...” kiss. 

Beca can't stand this playing.

“Just fuck me already.” She manages to growl and Chloe moves her head to look Beca in the eyes, smiling darkly. She pushes the heel of her hand against Beca's sex and takes a few more seconds of enjoyment in watching Beca writhe under her touch before she stops, placing her fingers around the entrance to Beca's cunt and then moving her head to place her mouth by Beca's ear. 

She bites down gently on her earlobe and whispers, “As you wish.”

Chloe slides her fingers inside Beca slowly and smirks at the moan she gives, which follows a shuddering release of breath. Chloe starts to fuck her, slowly at first, extracting and inserting her digits at a leisurely place, letting Beca become accustomed to the slow, bubbling pleasure, not nearly enough to push her over the edge, but enough that she hums obscenities and finds her hands back in Chloe's hair and they kiss briefly again, rocking their hips in rhythm. 

Chloe uses an extra digit to circle Beca's clit and she lets out a gasp, teeth biting down on Chloe's lip.  
Chloe smirks, “You like that?” She asks, doing it again, and again, watching Beca come a little more undone each time.  
“Fuck.” Beca hisses, “Yes. Shit, don't stop.” 

Not being one to deny a girl after they've already started, Chloe keeps going. She thrusts her fingers faster, building up a quicker rhythm – One that makes Beca's hip buck with every curl of her fingertips and makes Beca whimper and moan and throw her hands out to find support in the rattling shelves of the closet they occupy. Her excitement is rising; her heart rate racing and Chloe's touch is intoxicating. 

Chloe circles Beca clit again with alternating pressure until she finds the spot where her breath hitches the most and her whimper of approval is the loudest and Chloe can see that she's close, so very close. Beca leans her head back, resting it against the door and she breathes heavily, gasping obscenities where she can. Chloe uses her free hand and guides Beca's gaze back to her, supporting her head. They bore in to each other's eyes, pupils dilated with ecstasy; Beca's turn hazy as she nears her climax

Chloe smiles.  
“I want you to come for me.” She whispers in Beca's ear and Beca nods, moaning. Chloe fucks her a little harder and she feels, under her fingers, Beca's walls tightening and her breath, now no more than short gasps, is littered with obscenities and her eyes squeeze shut and she whimpers and Chloe thrusts her digits one more time and then Beca takes a single, sharp breath and -

Silence. 

Beca's body shudders as her orgasm washes over. She pulls Chloe into a searing kiss and muffles her sudden cries of pleasure against Chloe's lips. And then, exhausted and chest heaving, she leans against Chloe for support, her limbs all but given up. Chloe holds her and Beca gives a tired smile before nuzzling her head into the crook of her colleague's shoulder. 

They remain like that for a short while. 

In a moment suddenly intimate (in a much more innocent form of the word), Chloe presses a gentle kiss to Beca's temple and smiles softly.  
“How are you feeling?” She asks.  
Beca gives a relieved sigh.  
“Like I just had sex in a storage closet.” and Chloe chuckles lightly at her reply, because of course, what else did she expect? 

“Was it good storage closet sex, though?” She inquires and she can feel Beca's smirk against her shoulder. Beca then hums before lifting her heavy head and showing that beautiful, asshole-ish smirk she wears so well. She pecks a final kiss to Chloe's lips and then grins.

“I'm no expert, but it was pretty fuckin' great.”


	4. That one with the music playlist

“I need you to make me a running playlist.”  
These were not the words that Beca was expecting. It's last thing on a monday afternoon and she's preparing to finally go home and hell, these aren't the words she wants to hear either. She turns reluctantly in her chair to see which ungrateful colleague of hers is asking, noting the running shorts and pristine polo shirt. It doesn't take a genius to figure it's the PE teacher, Aubrey -Or Miss Posen, for the sake of retaining professionalism – and of course, Beca is absoluted overjoyed to see her (Note: Sarcasm). 

Beca stares up at her, scowling slightly. Miss Posen's expression is inscrutable – the kind of military grade stoicness that scares the shit out of any student...and maybe any teacher too. But not Beca. Definitely not. 

“I'm uh, busy.” Beca says, turning in her chair again towards her open laptop. Aubrey clicks her tongue and sighs and if Beca didn't know any better, she'd say that's the same reaction she gives to a student who insists on not running the track. Beca's not sure how she feels about being treated in the same manner, but it certainly doesn't feel good.   
“We're all busy, Miss Mitchell.” Aubrey hums, “But sometimes there are things we must do.” and okay, yes, she's being totally patronising right now and Beca hates it. More than hates – loathe is a better word: She loathes it.   
Beca rolls her eyes, drawling, “You know, perhaps a better way to start would have been-” she pauses to adjust her posture, mimicking Miss Posen's stiff back and glowering expression - “'Hello Miss Mitchell, I can see you're very busy but I was wondering if you possibly had time to make me a running playlist because you have such genius music knowledge and-”  
“Okay, okay, you've made your point, Beca.” Aubrey interrupts, “There's no need to be rude.”   
Beca smirks, “There's every reason to be rude.”   
“You're such a child.”  
“You're a bitch.” 

They're silent for a moment. Then suddenly, they both crack up, laughing at one another loudly. They laugh because it's ridiculous, how they treat one another, acting like there's nothing but pure hatred. It's a little harsh, but at the end of the day it's good fun – rude, maybe – but fun nonetheless and it's a bit of a kick when the students gossip about it.  
Beca wipes the side of her eye and breathes out, letting her giggle die down. She opens up itunes on her laptop and looks at Aubrey expectantly.   
“Okay yeah sure, what do you want in this playlist, fuckface?”   
Muffling a chuckle behind her hand, Aubrey shakes her head as Beca's brashness.   
“Music, something with a good beat.”   
Beca taps a few keys. “So nothing you'd actually listen to yourself, then?” She asks, smirking; Aubrey simply scoffs. Beca pulls up at Top 40 chart and scrolls through it, grimacing occasionally because holy shit, some of this music is terrible. 

She turns to Aubrey. “Do you need censored versions, y'know, in case you use this stuff to motivate students or something?”   
“That's incredibly thoughtful of you, Beca.” Aubrey says, smiling.  
Beca goes back to typing, assuming her colleague's response means yes and begins to go on a hunt for clean versions of the various songs she'd eyed that would be good. She hums for a second.   
“Yeah well, it doesn't mean anything, Miss Posen, I am a little tied to someone else right now.” She comments, absently, not thinking for a second about the secrecy of her and Miss Beale's...relationship? Fuck buddy agreement? Thing? Whatever. 

Aubrey gasps and gives a small squeal. “Oh! So the rumors about you and Mr. Swanson are true? I didn't think Jessica and Ashley's gossiping in class was true, but I guess I was wrong.”  
Beca smirks, “Yeah. Something like that.” 

Beca pushes away from the desk and rubs her tired eyes with the heel of her hand. Giving a small yawn, she adds “Anyway, I'll get this done for you for tomorrow.”   
Aubrey clasps her hands together. “That's great.” She says and she leaves the room without a thank you, leaving Beca slightly offended but it's not like she didn't expect it. 

A second later, Aubrey pops her head back around the door.   
“By the way, this doesn't mean I owe you. We hate eachother, okay?”  
Beca nods. “Got it.” 

XxX

The following morning, Beca dashes through the hallways to her class, running late as usual. She opens her door and scuttles in, apologising profusely, brushing scruffy hair from her face and generally making a bit of a fool of herself but there's little to no reaction from the students. A couple jeer and some others sigh – An underwhelming response, to say the least. 

Beca places her coffee on her desk and rushes to take her laptop from it's case. She doesn't know why she's trying so hard; its not like this class of 8th Graders seem to care anyway. That's the problem with 8th graders, she thinks, they're not 7th graders anymore so they're a little more cocky. She sighs. 

Pulling her laptop case on to her desk to rummage for her USB drive, Beca pauses. Her hands deftly search the bag again and there's nothing but her laptop charger and a pair of headphones.   
It's not there.   
“Shit.” She mutters, eyeing her class quickly; nervously.   
That USB had Aubrey's playlist on it and various notes about today's classes and it's not there and fuck, she's so screwed. 

“Miss Mitchell, what are we doing today?” A student calls out, interrupting Beca's panic. Beca jerks her head up and forces a smile as she idly gathers some papers from a drawer in her desk.   
“Today, uh, we are...” She drags out the words as she scans the papers – They're piano chords and diagrams, nothing too strenuous - “going to play the keyboards in groups and make up our own songs.”   
She nods to herself because damn, that was a good save. 

The class seem satifised with this answer. They group up with relative ease, take their chord diagrams and get to work...Although, 'work' is debatable, as Beca can tell most of them are pressing random keys or playing 'Mary Had A Little Lamb'. It doesn't matter though, at least they're doing something.   
With the kids distracted, Beca opens up her laptop, grabs the empty USB she found also lurking in the drawer and plugs it in. Aubrey needs the playlist before the hour is up and she's all but forgotten the songs she put on the original. In other words, she's pretty much fucked. 

She opens her web browser; an idea springs to mind. She smirks to herself and loads up youtube, biting her lip to surpress the sudden urge to laugh because this idea is simply perfect. 

It takes but a few minutes for Beca to finish the new and improved playlist. She cracks her knuckles and stares at the track listing with nothing but pride. She can't wait to see Aubrey's reaction. 

The class drags on with occasional demonstrations and offhandish comments about “Maybe adding a C chord here” or “The tempo is a little fast there” and Beca almost feels accomplished for getting the class to actually do something. Granted, it isn't what she planned to do, but it's something nonetheless. Although, the flow of time is much too slow for her liking.   
When the class reaches it's final 15 minutes, Beca stands and claps her hands three times in succession – Which is some sort of universal language to pay attention, apparently –, telling her class she needs to 'leave for a moment to file some paperwork' and that 'they can chat amongst themselves'. Naturally, they've overjoyed and don't even question their teacher's lack of actual teaching. 

Grabbing the USB from it's port and some papers to sell the lie, Beca makes her way out of the class and heads towards the gym. 

XxX

Upon arrival, Beca isn't surprised to hear Miss Posen barking orders. Hell, the woman could probably earn a gold medal for being a professional command yeller or something akin to that. Beca marches in, posture as tall as a woman of her height can muster and she's met with heads whipping in her direction to glance at her, every face adorned with the same confused expression...which is to be expected, she's a music teacher in the gymnasium – It's hardly her 'natural territory', so to speak.   
Beca walks over to Aubrey. She coughs to let herself be known. 

Aubrey turns around, almost breaking a smile when she sees her colleague stood there, but she keeps it locked down and simply gives a slight nod.   
“Miss Mitchell.” She acknowledges, voice taught and god, Beca is so close to laughing because the students look so nervous. Mortified, even.   
“Miss Posen.” Beca acknowledges in return before holding out the USB drive, “You might want to plug it in and check it out, make sure it's good.”  
Aubrey nods, “I'll do that.” 

Aubrey leaves the room a moment, disappearing in to the changing rooms and presumably, the small staff room ajoined to it. Whilst she's gone, Beca makes an awkward half wave to the students, who avert their eyes and continue with whatever ridiculous exercise Aubrey's putting them through today. It's still infinitely funny to know that the entire school think they hate one another. Aurey returns a moment later with some speakers attached to a tiny little macbook and she plugs the USB in.  
“It should autoplay.” She tells Beca, turning away from the device to watch the students. The macbook whirs for a few seconds before itunes pops open on it's screen and the first song begins to play. 

Beca smirks, “You're gonna love this one.” 

Drums and synth play through the speakers. A song, familiar to Aubrey's ears but name lost on her, echos around the gym. It sounds like it's from the 80's and it really isn't the kind of music she expected nor is it the kind of music she wanted. She turns to Beca, ready to start ranting but then the vocals start and her jaw goes slack.

'We're no strangers to love, you know the rules and so do I'

Beca's biting her lip, holding in laughter and – what the hell, the entire class is laughing at her! 

'A full commitment what I'm thinking of, you wouldn't get this from any other guy'

The name springs to her mind; it's the annoying meme that Beca tormented her back in their College days: 'Never Gonna Give You Up' - By far the most annoying, childish thing she's ever had the mispleasure of listening to. Yet, everyone except her is laughing. She pauses the song, scolding her class for not working and then she glares at Beca, who's still grinning in that god awful shit-eating way that she does. 

“I can't believe you.” She mutters.   
Beca shrugs, “I thought you'd like it...maybe you should try the next song.”   
Aubrey doesn't know what possesses her, but she clicks on to the next track (coincidentally, all the tracks are labeled with numbers and not names.) and waits a few seconds before pressing play.   
She closes her eyes and breathes. 

Never Gonna Give You Up starts playing once more.

“God dammit!” She yells. This catches the attention of everyone in the room; she gives the students a pointed look and again, they return to their exercises, looking somewhat annoyed by all the interruptions. The song is still playing in the background, echoing off the walls in an almost eery fashion. Rick Astley is perhaps not a voice you want to hear in a large gymnasium, it would seem.   
Beca's chuckling to herself still because honestly, it's hilarious. Aubrey fell for it; twice.

“Get out of my class.” She orders, pointing at the door.   
Beca takes a few steps in it's direction, turning around to give Aubrey a faux-innocent shrug and smile before walking off, proud in the fact she know Aubrey now hates her just a little bit more. 

“You know, Miss Mitchell.” Aubrey calls just before Beca reaches the door, “One day you'll have to stop pestering me and actually be a professional.”   
Beca opens the door and smirking, she replies “That's what you think...but I'm never gonna give you up, Miss Posen.”

And with that, she leaves.


	5. That one with the piano

Lunch breaks are dull.

 

 _Correction: Lunch breaks are dull when there's no one to spend them with, and you use most of yours returning equipment used as props (your students promised to put back but never did)_  


Chloe's lunch break is dull. So very, very dull. So far she's been to the Gym, English classrooms and IT classes; returning items she has no idea how her students obtained. Admittedly, it's kind of impressive, although somewhat terrifying when a bunch of students burst back into class (after mentioning they'd be back in a few moments) with one of the crash mats from the Gym, claiming they have permission to use it – although, she has her doubts about that. Naturally, when the bell rings for lunch they're out of the theatre before she has a chance to ask them to tidy up and she's left with a lot of stuff that needs returning, and only an hour to do it. Understandably, single handedly dragging a crash mat back to the gym single handedly, is no easy feat (and she would have asked Amy, had her co-worker not also mysteriously disappeared the moment the bell rang).  


Anyway, she's mostly done with it now and she finally takes a moment to sit, grabbing her water bottle to take a large gulp from it. She's tired – more tired than she's been recently. This job isn't easy and her only saving grace right now is probably Beca. Which reminds her...  


She rises from her seat, feet heavy and glances to the corner. Of course, the pile of recorders her students somehow managed to swipe from the music classrooms are still there. Considering Beca's policy on handing out equipment to non-music students, Chloe can only imagine the conversation went something like this:  


“ _Can we have these recorders, Miss Mitchell?”_  
_“No.”_  
 _“Please?”_  
 _“No.”_  
 _“Miss Beale wants them.”_  
 _“... Fine.”_  


Which actually, makes Chloe smile to herself; she knows hard-ass teacher Miss Mitchell is nothing more than a softie  
 

Chloe collects the recorders, having to hoist them around a little until they all fit comfortably in her arms and then sets off to Beca's classroom. Hopefully, she thinks, they'll be on the same Lunch break today and she can have a few minutes to talk with her colleague... but as she approaches the door and peers through the window, she's disappointed to learn that Beca is nowhere to be found. The door however, is still open and Chloe lets herself in, albeit awkwardly as her lack of free hand means she's using her elbow to push the handle and she's pretty sure one of the recorders is about to fall, not to mention her hair is being _especially_ annoying today. With nothing more than a small struggle to stop one of the instruments from falling, she makes it into the room and breathes out a sigh.  


She quickly dumps the recorders in their labelled box, found on some shelf, and goes to leave. However, her eyes catch a piano sitting in the corner of the room. It's a little sad looking – somewhat dishevelled and in need of a polish – but when Chloe impulsively makes her way over to it and presses a key, she's finds it to be perfectly intune and the sound's familiar ring brings a smile to her face. She probably shouldn't, but she sits at the stool and brushes her fingers along the keys; it takes only a few seconds for her to find her bearings with the instrument.  


She hasn't played in so long.  


As if second nature, her hands begin to play a tune, deftly jumping from key to key, albeit mispressing once or twice. The motions feel a little stiffer than they used to but it's simply her lack of practise. Chloe's smiling – her tortuous lunch break almost forgotten as she plays. Her fingers are light against the keys and she can _feel_ the music, and hear it echo around the empty classroom and oh, it's therapeutic to hear that sound again. Everything disappears from her mind and all she can focus on is the piece she's playing – A song whose name and composer escapes her memory but a melody she can't forget – and it's like she's back at her parents house with their grand piano all again; not stuck in Barden High School during her lunch break with no one around her and another class to teach in much too short a time.  


The song ends far too quickly for her liking.  


When she finishes playing, she sits in silence at the piano for a few moments, eyes still shut. Her smile is small and she takes a rejuvenated breath. Her hands trail off the keys to rest limply on the sides of the stool and it's quiet. So very quiet.  


Then, from the other side of the room, comes a small shuffling and Chloe whips her head up.  
“What are you doing?!” She yells, voice habitually assuming it's teacher-esque tone.  
“Woah! Jeez, I was just coming back to _my_ classroom.” Replies the person. Chloe eyes widen because shit, she's an idiot. It's Beca. Of course it is.  
Chloe ducks her head in embarrassment. “How long have you been in here?” She asks.  
Beca approaches, arms crossed, mouth curled in this soft little smirk and she leans against the piano when she reaches it. She drawls, “Long enough to know you're freakin' talented. Why Miss Beale, I'm almost offended you didn't let me know”

Chloe looks up at Beca from where she sits on the stool and her cheeks flush pink. She runs a hand through her hair, grinning awkwardly. She humours her colleague, replying, “Well, even the brightest people have their secrets.” and she winks, despite on the inside she's basically dying because no one's watched her play in years and now Beca is here and she's meant to be a damn professional but it's really hard when Beca is looking at her in that way that's inquisitive and soft and not at all like that reputation she's built up for herself.  


Beca rolls her eyes, smiling crookedly. “Well, in that case-” She starts, as moves around the piano, indicating for Chloe to shuffle across the piano stool, as such so she can sit next to her. “-you can share this secret with me.”  
Quickly eyeing the clock (There's 15 minutes until classes start again), Beca then graces Chloe with an inviting look, and gently encourages her to play again. When Chloe looks hesitant, Beca says “Dude, I know you're already good so there's no use in pretending you're not.”  
Chloe nods, glaring down at the keys for a few moments to think of something to play. When she's ready, her hands float back to the keys and softly tap out the first few chords before falling into rhythm. Beca watches, quietly, appreciating it like a true musician would. Though, she finds herself staring at Chloe's face and the way she looks when focusing more often than not. Chloe's eyes squint a little, and she bites her lips on particularly difficult sections – The entire thing is simply adorable, too precious, too... intimate for this classroom environment. Beca clears her throat and Chloe stops playing.  


Beca nods, “You're amazing, Chloe.” she says and she checks the classroom door for any lingering students before leaning in to press a chaste kiss on the corner of her mouth.  
“Oh, Miss Mitchell!” Chloe chastises playfully, lingering close to Beca for a second longer than she probably should.  
“I know you said not when there's students around, but I-”  
Chloe quietens Beca with a gentle 'shh' and smiles, “It's okay. It's still Lunch break anyway.”  
They kiss quickly, knowing their time alone is numbered and when they break, Beca sucks in a breath and gives her head a small shake. “Damn.” She breathes out, “Theatre _and_ pianist extraordinare. Looks like I gotta step up my game.” to which Chloe simply kisses Beca's cheek in reply and hums “Mm, well your mixes are pretty good, I guess.”  
“You guess?”  
Chloe winks, “Okay, they're amazing.”  
“Damn right.”  


Then there's a moment of silence. And they're looking at each other, smiling, still sat sharing the damn piano stool and maybe, just maybe if they weren't at work, Beca would kiss Chloe some more and Chloe wouldn't object, not one bit. Sadly, they are at work, so Beca simply clears her throat and looks back at the piano keys.  
“So, could you teach me?” she asks, idly pressing a few keys in something that somewhat resembles a chord and Chloe, biting back a laugh (because actually, that's nowhere near correct), gently pushes Beca's hand away, placing her fingers to form a C chord further down the piano.  
“I thought you knew the basic chords?” Chloe comments, clearly amused.  
Beca scoffs, “Well I kind of do, I just forget them sometimes. I'm better with a guitar or something...”  
“How did you even manage to become a teacher?” And Chloe is actually giggling now because honestly, it's ridiculous. Beca can't play a few basic chords and yet she's been commended many times. Beca shrugs and smirks.  
“Maybe it's my bright and sunny personality?”

There's a beat of quiet before they both burst out laughing and okay, maybe the teaching can wait until later because honestly, neither of them can act professional, let alone focus on learning. Which makes Chloe think...  


“Shit!” She gasps, rising from the stool. She walks across the class to stare at the clock.  
Beca stands too, looking around quickly; her eyes wide. “What?!”

“I need to go prep for my next class.”  
Beca sighs and slumps back on the piano stool, feeling rather anti-climatic.  
“Okay well, you can teach me some other time.” She says, and Chloe looks back at her, nodding with a smile. Beca then ushers her with a hand gesture and chides, “Now go do your job, Miss Beale, there are students relying on you!  


Chloe doesn't want to leave – No one wants to go and teach – and Beca doesn't want her to, but they have their jobs and maybe, in a different life they'd be somewhere else. But for now, they're at Barden high, playing piano during a lunch break that's ending far too soon. In fact, it's ending in about 6 minutes. Chloe takes a few steps to Beca, kisses her cheek away and says she'll back back after classes finish for the day. Beca smiles and waves dumbly as she leaves.  


When she's gone, Beca looks at the piano keys again and places her hand in to the chord that Chloe taught her. She presses and hears the sound ring.  
She smiles.  
A simple chord has never sounded sweeter.  


End file.
